


the bitter pill i swallow, the scars, souvenirs, that tattoo, your last bruise

by uaevuon



Series: Legends Never Die (the omegaverse geass AU) [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Foot Fetish, Immortality, LLYBB, M/M, Past Mpreg, magical contract a la code geass, viktor's definition of personal space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-07-16 11:39:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16085378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uaevuon/pseuds/uaevuon
Summary: The concept of the perfect, unblemished, and virginal omega was archaic, but to a certain point still instinctual; it was why he always insisted on wearing socks during the heats he shared, even as uncomfortable as it was to be so warm, even when his partners had made fun of him for it. Somehow Viktor’s willingness, almost excitement, to care for his feet made Yuuri feel a little less self-conscious, though he knew Viktor didn’t do it for the reasons he so desperately wanted.





	the bitter pill i swallow, the scars, souvenirs, that tattoo, your last bruise

**Author's Note:**

> cw for past mpreg
> 
> this work is part of a series, and will not make any sense without having read the previous parts.

Yuuri didn’t activate his contract until weeks later, when it burst out of him. 

It wasn’t that Yuuri was making a conscious effort to hold it back, exactly. He didn’t really know _how_. But he had no idea what he’d be able to _do_ and that worried him. The examples Viktor had given him were all over the place, and the suggestion that it would stem from some characteristic Yuuri already had didn’t help much. What was special enough about Yuuri that it would manifest in some kind of secret super power? 

So he didn’t use it. For weeks, Yuuri kept it hidden even from himself, until one day he and Viktor were leaving the ice after a particularly difficult day of training, and Yuuri caught Yuuko’s eyes. She stood shock-still in front of him, and even her breath caught in her throat. 

Yuuri watched as Yuuko’s whole demeanor changed. Her bubbly personality, her energy and exuberance, her open adoration of everyone around her, all shut down, and she closed herself off. Her eyes downcast; even her shoulders slumped. 

“Yuuko? What’s wrong?” Yuuri reached out to her, his hands coming up to rest on her shoulders. Yuuko _never_ looked like this, and it worried Yuuri enough to push him into action. 

“Am I a failure, Yuuri?” 

Yuuko’s voice was small, the quietest he’d ever heard her. 

“What are you talking about?” Yuuri asked, moving in closer. 

“You and I always talked about skating together, when we were kids. I wonder… did I make the wrong choice, leaving all that behind? Or is everything I’m doing now just proof I couldn’t have made it anyway?”

Yuuri didn’t understand where any of this was coming from. Yuuko _loved_ her life, had always said she had no regrets and that she wouldn’t change a thing. This didn’t sound like her at all. It sounded like Yuuri, really; he always wondered if he should have ever left Hasetsu, if his failures showed he wasn’t cut out to be a figure skater. But how could Yuuri put that into words? How could he make Yuuko understand — 

There were hands over Yuuri’s eyes; a chest pressed to his back. Viktor’s voice close to his ears: “Yuuko, do you really feel that way?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Why did you choose not to compete?”

“I did compete, for a little while. Just as a kid.” 

“Why did you stop?” 

“I didn’t really enjoy it.” 

“And do you enjoy what you’re doing now? Teaching lessons, taking care of your kids, and all that?”

Yuuri couldn’t see, but from the way Yuuko’s shoulders shifted under his hands, he thought she might have nodded. 

“Well there you go.” Viktor’s hands lifted away from Yuuri’s eyes; Yuuko blinked up at the two of them. “Don’t let Yuuri’s frustration about today bring you down too, Yuu-chan.” 

Yuuko nodded; she smiled and blushed, and Yuuri thought Viktor must have winked at her. 

Viktor pulled Yuuri along, shouting out their goodbyes at Yuuko as he dragged Yuuri through the automatic doors and aside to the bike racks. He tugged at Yuuri’s wrist until he fell against Viktor’s chest, then hugged him tight. “Yuuri!” 

“What—”

“You used it! Oh, that’s incredible; what a unique ability!”

Yuuri pushed Viktor back. “So that was _me_?!” 

Viktor nodded. “It seems you can project your emotions onto others. Useful, I’d say, especially for someone in your position.”

“You mean dangerous.” Yuuri frowned and pulled away from Viktor’s hold. 

“Yuuri—”

“That was terrifying. Did you see how hurt she was? I never want to do that again.”

“Yuuri, the best thing to do would be to practice, so your can control it,” Viktor urged. “I have lots of practice in cleaning up contract messes, so we can—”

“No.” Yuuri turned away and started his careful jog down the stairs. He didn’t wait for Viktor to catch up; he had a bicycle after all. He’d manage. 

\---

Yuuri wanted to hole up in his room and never see the light of day again. He tried, of course, but Viktor wasn’t as respectful of his boundaries as his family and friends. Most of the time he came off as rude (and he was) but sometimes he swept aside the door to Yuuri’s room and dragged him out, barely giving him time to put on pants before they were dashing out of the house and up to Ice Castle. 

Viktor would accept no slacking, not for this. Even if Yuuri didn’t trust himself, now that he had what he thought was a dangerous and volatile ability, Viktor would make him practice come hell or high water. He kept this up for weeks, until Yuuri begrudgingly accepted that he wasn’t going to be let off the hook. 

In the interim, Yuuri had pushed his emotions on several other people, always by accident, and always when he was overwhelmed. Each time, he retreated further into himself, re-committed to keeping his ability under control, that is, not using it at all. And it worked, for a little while, until the next time he panicked or got into one of his determined moods. 

Each time, Viktor tried to convince Yuuri to use it with purpose, so he wouldn’t lose control. Yuuri refused. He refused when his determination had Minako directing him to extend his ballet lessons two hours over their usual time; he refused when his anxiety made a group of children cry; he refused when his embarrassment at Viktor’s wandering eyes made a whole onsen full of people uncomfortable enough to leave at what would normally be peak hours for Yu-topia; he refused when he caught Yuuko up a second time, now in the middle of practicing his _Eros_ program, and wasn’t _that_ awkward. 

He persisted, even though it was only getting harder to control the more he fought it. 

\---

Finding it wholly impossible to keep the Nishigori triplets out of trouble, Viktor and Yuuri agreed to let them continue their fangirlish filming, as long as they agreed when asked not to post something, and shared all the footage with Viktor so he could use it for Yuuri’s improvement. 

“Can we take a look at the last few jumps?” Viktor called out, and Lutz shuffled across the ice in her child-sized ice skates to turn the tiny camera screen up to him. “Yuuri, come look.”

Yuuri, it turned out, absolutely hated watching himself skate. He grimaced, and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he very slowly let his skates glide towards Viktor. 

“You won’t get better if you can’t see your mistakes,” Viktor said. “Come on.” He pointed out a few points in Yuuri’s unstable quad Salchow that could be improved upon, and handed the camera back. “Thank you, Lutz.”

Lutz held the camera close to her chest as she left the ice, and Viktor followed Yuuri as he set up for another Salchow. 

“Remember to keep your posture under control!” Viktor called after Yuuri. Yuuri spared him only a nod, then turned into the jump. 

Yuuri completed four rotations, then landed perfectly, and in his elation, tripped over his own foot. Viktor winced, too far away to do anything more than lurch forward before Yuuri hit the ice. 

Viktor was by his side in a moment, as Yuuri groaned and started to pick himself up. “Great,” Yuuri said. “I hope you’re all right with seeing the most embarrassing sides of me, because that’s what coaching me is like.”

“That’s what coaching anyone is like,” Viktor said, trying to be reassuring. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I only bruised my dignity.”

Viktor laughed, having quickly gotten used to Yuuri’s ash-dry, intensely modern sense of humor. “One more Salchow, then we’ll call it a day. I’m sure the girls have homework.”

Said girls all pouted, not liking the reminder. They’d just started going to preschool this year, and while the homework was truly minimal, mainly things like _Spend time outside!_ or _Help with chores!_ , they were none too happy about the way it ate away at their ability to be full-time skating otaku. 

Yuuri landed this last Salchow as well, this time without tripping over himself, and managed to reign in his feeling of accomplishment until he was off the ice, where he accepted three tiny high fives before the triplets departed.

“They like you a lot,” Viktor observed. “How old are they? Six?” 

“Five,” Yuuri corrected. “Their birthday was last week, Viktor.” He’d been there. He’d even joked with the girls about blowing out their candles before them, to which they’d screamed no, all the stolen candles would make him fifteen years older! 

“Right, of course.” Viktor knelt down at Yuuri’s feet and started to untie his skates, even before doing his own. He’d done this ever since Yuuri’s new pair came in, tying and untying, wanting to make sure the laces were neat and perfect to match the shiny leather boots and scratch-free blades. “They follow you around pretty faithfully, considering you weren’t around for most of their lives. And you’re quite good with them.”

“Ah, yeah…” Yuuri’s leg twitched as Viktor tugged off his right boot. 

Viktor started in on the laces of the left one. “I wonder if it’s your pack-bond with Yuuko and Takeshi?” Viktor wondered aloud. “You seem to make a lot of those. Or maybe it’s their budding alpha instincts, trying to impress you as an unbonded omega.” 

Yuuri squinted at Viktor. “You _know_ , don’t you?” he said, accusing. 

Viktor looked up at him; his smile said _innocent_ , but his eyes said _I’m in trouble and there’s no going back now_. 

“Who told you?” Yuuri demanded. “Was it Yuuko? Takeshi? Did _kaa-san_ show you my high school graduation pictures?” 

Viktor shook his head as he looked down and pulled off Yuuri’s left boot. He set them aside, then pulled Yuuri’s feet onto his lap, checking for any new blisters or bruises, massaging the skin and tendons. “They smell like you, a little bit,” he said. Quiet, casual, like this was in any way an easy conversation. 

“Don’t you dare judge me.” 

Viktor’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with confusion. “Judge you?”

The words spilled out. “I didn’t have a real coach until I went abroad. I couldn’t get an athletic sponsorship, or a scholarship, without a coach.” Yuuri tried to shift, to pull his legs away from Viktor, get away and stop himself from babbling, but Viktor held tight. “They couldn’t… Takeshi’s a beta, he couldn’t carry kids once he started hormone therapy. Yuuko tried, and it just wouldn’t take. And omega surrogates get paid…” he paused, taking a deep breath. “…enough. I got paid enough to go to the States after. I didn’t even have to think about it.”

“You don’t need to rationalize it to me,” Viktor said. He pitched his voice low, trying to soothe Yuuri, who was growing frantic. “Even if you just wanted to be pregnant, I’d support you.”

Yuuri hunched forward, his shoulders rising up to his ears. “I did. I mean, I offered to them. I wanted it. I didn’t think I’d ever get another chance, anyway, at having kids. The stipends and all that, it came after.” Yuuri relaxed a little when Viktor started rubbing a particularly tender spot on the underside of his right foot. “It made my first semester of college awkward, but I wouldn’t take it back.” 

“Of course not. So about these graduation photos…” Viktor wiggled his eyebrows, even as he slid clean socks up Yuuri’s ankles. 

Yuuri groaned. “I was already showing. I wasn’t supposed to be showing so much, but then again I wasn’t supposed to be carrying triplets.” 

“You couldn’t just pass it off as, I don’t know, finals stress weight?”

“That was the plan. But _triplets_ , Viktor. I looked ridiculous.” 

Viktor laughed. He patted Yuuri’s knees and heaved himself up onto the bench so he could take off his own skates. “I’m sure you looked beautiful.”

“Yeah, I bet you say that to every pregnant omega.” 

“Only the cute ones.” Viktor winked. 

Yuuri shook his head. No need to get caught up in Viktor’s flirting; it wasn’t serious, after all. 

“I’m interested in knowing how you caught up with skating after that.” 

“Oh.” Yuuri shrugged. “I didn’t really stop? I mean, I did, in the last few weeks, when my feet swelled too much to fit in the skates. But I kept skating, just cut out the jumps once I started gaining weight. So it wasn’t too hard to go back once my body went back to the usual. Same as taking time off for an injury.” 

“Wow. You’re very resilient.”

“Stubborn, really.” Yuuri smiled to himself, tucking his head down. 

Yuuri wiggled his toes inside his socks. There was a small stain on the toe, from the last time Yuuri cracked a toenail. He had the same little instinct-driven panic each time it happened, that the state of his feet after all the bruises, cracks, calluses, and micro-fractures would render him useless, undesirable; an ugly, broken omega, on top of already being used goods. The concept of the perfect, unblemished, and virginal omega was archaic, but to a certain point still instinctual; it was why he always insisted on wearing socks during the heats he shared, even as uncomfortable as it was to be so warm, even when his partners had made fun of him for it. Somehow Viktor’s willingness, almost excitement, to care for his feet made Yuuri feel a little less self-conscious, though he knew Viktor didn’t do it for the reasons he so desperately wanted. 

And Viktor’s apparent joy, the glittering eyes and awed smile, at the confirmation Yuuri had carried children before, put him on cloud nine. 

Yuuri pushed his feet into his sneakers, tightened the laces as much as the post-practice swelling would allow. 

“Do you know what Mama is making for dinner?” 

Yuuri startled at that, when he realized Viktor was referring to Yuuri’s mother. He stared at Viktor for a moment, watched him tie up his own shoes. He came to understand, slowly, over the past weeks, what he hadn’t thought about before; Viktor’s parents were no longer alive. Hadn’t been in a long time, and had likely died thinking Viktor went before them. And as Viktor barely remembered his life, he may not have even noticed. 

That Viktor was speaking of Yuuri’s parents like they were his own… it made Yuuri’s heart twist. It likely meant they had asked Viktor to call them that, Mama and Papa, and Yuuri’s chest tightened further. Yuuri’s family might become almost as heartbroken as Yuuri himself would be, when Viktor inevitably left them, after Yuuri proved he couldn’t fulfill Viktor’s unknown wish or his demand of wiping his records clean. 

Yuuri stood, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. He cleared his throat, looked away so Viktor wouldn’t see his glassy eyes, until he could push down the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He was starting to understand why Viktor called his immortality a curse. “I’m not sure. Let’s go see.” 

“Mm.” Viktor stood as well, his skates stowed away in a small backpack that looked specially made to carry them. “Let’s go home.”

 _Home_ , he said. A few months, and Viktor was calling Yu-topia his home. 

Yuuri really hoped he didn’t just say that to every skater who made a contract with him. 

Viktor took his bike back, as usual; his long hair whipped around behind him in the wind, and he loudly greeted everyone they passed. By now, Viktor knew them all by name, but it had taken time, and a lot of patience. 

Yuuri kept up with him at a jog. He was grateful Viktor didn’t ride at top speed, only just fast enough to present Yuuri with a challenge. 

They passed side-by-side through an emptier part of town, with houses and storefronts that were all bare, signs worn down or missing letters. Yuuri remembered some of these places, the families that had lived and work there, from when he was young. Back then there had been two more onsen; not the six that Hasetsu boasted in its prime, but three was still a respectable number for such a small town. Nowadays, despite the elevated train tracks, the holodome, and the Yuuri-centric tourism advertising, Hasetsu seemed empty. Half a ghost town, half an unassuming rural village. 

Viktor had asked, once, what used to be here. Yuuri had stopped him, taken him on a tour of the deserted streets, pointing out what had once been. What disappeared one by one, who left with empty promises to visit. Told half-formed stories of almost-friends who had transferred schools during a break, never to be seen again. Disappearances seeming almost sinister, if not for those who bothered to check in, months or years later. 

“Do you resent them?” Viktor had asked. Yuuri shrugged; it wasn’t his place to pass judgment, he said, and he couldn’t blame them for wanting something more than what Hasetsu could offer. After all, Yuuri had left, too. Perhaps, if not for losing Vicchan, he never would have looked back. 

But nonetheless, watching moving shuttles touch down on dusty streets every few months and take away someone he barely had the chance to get to know was an experience Yuuri didn’t quite have words for. In bigger cities, shuttles were no strange thing; for Hasetsu, it was always a goodbye, never a hello. After all, no-one new ever showed up in a shuttle. They came by train, with a couple suitcases only, and bright blue eyes much older than their unlined face. 

Now, the empty streets, the darkened storefronts, the run-down jungle gyms were all normal to Viktor, as familiar as the seagulls overhead.

Yuuri pushed himself for the last half-mile through winding streets, up to Yu-topia’s gate; he threw it open wide enough for Viktor to glide through on his bike, his long legs raised out to the sides like a child. 

They headed right for the showers, peeling off their clothes in the cubby room and letting them air out by the fans. Yuuri took a moment to stare at his beige dance belt and compression shirt pinned up alongside Viktor’s tiny black thong, the latter fluttering, flimsy and weightless. The sight was almost funny. Omegas didn’t tend to wear underwear; it was an old-fashioned thought, that omegas had to keep themselves exposed, but it actually did promote genital health and, well, it was comfortable. But as athletes, they had to, at least on the ice, just to keep the more floppy bits in place.

Viktor and Yuuri tended to rinse in the group shower, by now comfortable enough with one another’s nudity that Yuuri didn’t insist upon a partition between them. Viktor seemed a little _too_ comfortable sometimes; he didn’t always keep up the unspoken don’t-look-at-your-neighbor rule, though it was only Yuuri he ever looked at. Yuuri’s body showed all the signs of a fertile omega; the folds of his cunt visible around his cock, the stretch marks on his chest left over from the rapid swell of heat-milk time after time and around his belly from carrying the girls, his wide hips ready to grow another child (or three) at any moment. 

Viktor looked like he’d never had a heat in his life. He was narrow everywhere but his shoulders, his skin unmarked. Yuuri chanced a glance while Viktor was rinsing his hair; sure, his nipples always seemed a bit swollen or puffy, but that could mean anything or nothing, and Yuuri had never looked at him between the legs before. Had he not known better, he might have just assumed that Viktor was an alpha, and picked one of many possible explanations for why what he saw didn’t match what he expected. 

“Like what you see?” Viktor asked. 

Yuuri made a high-pitched noise, and turned away fully, dunking his head under the spray. He looked down at their feet beside one another on the tile; Viktor’s feet turned toward him. 

“You can look, Yuuri.”

When Yuuri didn’t move, those feet stepped closer. He noticed that, even though Viktor hadn’t competed in a century, all their scrapes, bruises, and calluses matched, right down to their little toes missing the nails, as if Viktor hadn’t stopped skating to the limits of his strength all this time. 

“Yuuri. I want you to look at me.”

Yuuri looked up, meeting Viktor’s eyes, which was terrifying, but much less so than looking anywhere _else_. 

Viktor raised his eyebrows, then laughed and shook his head. “Someday, Yuuri, I’ll get you to look.” He turned back to his own shower, turning the heat up and taking hold of the handheld shower head to prepare for getting into the onsen. 

Yuuri scrubbed himself hard, using the extra strong soap that was usually intended for alphas near their rut. It was gritty and made his skin feel tacky, and so did a great job of making him feel too gross and uncomfortable to get turned on by the thought of Viktor next to him, naked and wanting Yuuri to look at his junk. 

The onsen was calming, even as Viktor continued to distract Yuuri; little things Yuuri had seen him do a million times before suddenly seemed new now that he knew beyond his own doubt that Viktor, at some level, wanted to show off to him. Like the way he finger-combed and braided his long hair in a crown around his head, and how he sank down into the onsen, water coming up to his neck, and sighed, backed with the slightest pleased moan at the perfect heat. 

Yuuri had to think about falling on the ice, hard enough to bruise, because it was rude to get turned on in the onsen. Especially if one was the type of omega that got dripping wet at the slightest provocation. 

“Hey, Viktor — since no-one is here, can we talk about our contract a bit?” Yes, perfect. That would kill any boner Yuuri could come up with. 

“Sure.” Viktor picked his head up from where it rested on the edge of the pool, on top of his rolled-up towel. “What do you need to know?”

“Well, you still haven’t told me your end of it. Like, what you want out of this. What I have to do for you.”

Viktor lifted his hand from the water to wave it off. “Don’t worry about that. I won’t hold it against you if you don’t manage it.”

“But I’d like to know,” Yuuri pushed. 

Viktor stared at him and sighed. “If I told you, that would ruin it. It’s something you have to give me of your own choice.”

Yuuri frowned. “It just seems unfair for me to have all my cards on the table, and not know what your intentions are. That’s not much of a contract.” 

Viktor leaned his head back again. “I see what you mean. I’ll try and find a way to explain it.” 

They were silent for a while. Yuuri could feel his heart rate picking up, nervousness mounting. What if he found out Viktor’s side of the contract was something terrible? Or something he couldn’t possibly fulfill? What if he had signed over his soul after all?

“I have been,” Viktor began, then paused. “Lonely. I have been lonely since my death. What I remember of my life before that tells me I was relatively lonely then, too. I have rarely felt appreciated for more than my skating skills, hence my request that you best me. What I ask of you in this contract will… work on that loneliness.” He glanced at Yuuri, then back down at the water, strangely reticent. “Is that sufficient?” 

Yuuri nodded slowly. He hadn’t expected Viktor to open up to him in this way, but he appreciated it, appreciated that for once he wasn’t the only one making himself vulnerable in their arrangement. “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll do my best,” and he meant it. 

Viktor looked up fully; his eyes were wide, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. 

“What?” Yuuri asked. 

Viktor blinked a few times. “I— thank you. I wasn’t expecting you to believe me.” 

Yuuri shrugged. “If I can believe you’re Viktor Nikiforov, and immortal, and willing to coach me… I don’t think there’s much that’s more unbelievable at this point.

“The idea that you could have been lonely… _Now_ , I get it. No-one really knows who you are, and you have to hide. That’s make anyone lonely. But back then? It’d be hard to believe. You were always surrounded by people.

“But I get lonely too. I can get lonely in a crowded room. And though it still doesn’t feel real, that you could have felt the way I do, I understand that loneliness doesn’t stop just because people think they know who you are, so if you say that’s how it is, I have no reason to distrust what you’re telling me.”

Viktor pressed his lips together, and suddenly he was leaping through the water, throwing his arms around Yuuri. 

“Viktor! You’re too close!”

Viktor shook his head; his jaw smacked against Yuuri’s, and he winced. “No. You’re never getting rid of me now.” 

“What? Viktor!”

“I knew I made the right choice in coming here.” Viktor’s embrace tightened, and Yuuri grunted under the pressure, trying to wiggle into a more comfortable position. “Everything about you is right.”

“Um, okay.” Yuuri awkwardly patted Viktor’s back under the water. Truth be told, he was flattered, even if he didn’t really understand why such simple comments made Viktor think so highly of him. He felt Viktor shift again, felt lips against the side of his neck, and then Yuuri _really_ reacted; he gasped vocally and pulled away from Viktor, his legs straining to push them both halfway out of the water. “Viktor!” 

Viktor looked up, all innocence, as if he wasn’t sprawled naked over top of Yuuri and his mouth hadn’t just made a move on Yuuri’s scent gland. 

“Were you scenting me?” Yuuri accused. 

“You did it first,” Viktor said, seeming to think this was completely reasonable. 

Which, Yuuri realized, it was; his hands had come to rest at Viktor’s lower back, his wrists rubbing over Viktor’s hips. It was a rather intimate position. In fact, Viktor doing something as simple as letting his lips brush Yuuri’s neck had nothing on scenting the lower back. 

Yuuri felt a heat in his face that had nothing to do with the hot spring. 

“I’m sorry!” Yuuri shouted, instantly pulling his hands away from Viktor’s skin. 

“I don’t mind,” Viktor said. He smiled, his head tilted sideways on Yuuri’s chest. “I like how you smell.” 

Yuuri tilted his head back; it was uncomfortable, lying on the stone, but better than facing Viktor. “You can’t say things like that.” Complimenting someone’s scent was such an overtly romantic thing to do, and verging on sexual. Of course Viktor was a flirt, but there were limits to what Yuuri could handle. 

“I can if I mean them.” Viktor pushed himself up on his hands and knees. He hovered over Yuuri for a moment, then sighed and stood. He stepped directly over Yuuri’s face; Yuuri carefully kept his eyes averted. Unfortunately this meant that he could see the small crowd forming in the shower room, and an elderly alpha with his hands clasped in what appeared to be some sort of grateful prayer. 

“Get up. It’s time for dinner. And make sure you stretch well; you’re on flexibility training tomorrow.” With that, Viktor went back inside, the small crowd dispersing as they saw him approach the glass door.

Yuuri lay there for a few moments, among the steam and warm stone. Then he heaved himself up and flexed his pruned feet. 

“Oh my god,” Yuuri whispered to himself. 

“You’re damn right,” the same elderly alpha said, as he slowly lowered himself into the onsen. 

\---

Yuuri carried Viktor’s scent all the way to practice the next morning. It was so overwhelmed by Yuuri’s own stronger scent that it was likely undetectable by anyone else, but _he_ could smell it, and it kept him up all night. A little drop of florals and ice amongst his earthier scent should have been nothing, but it _wasn’t_ nothing. It couldn’t be nothing, not after spending so much time with Viktor recently that he could pick him out in a crowd by nose alone. 

He wondered what Viktor was feeling, infused with Yuuri’s scent. He’d seemed a little annoyed at dinner, but also more lively, making jokes, drinking sake from the bottle (which should have been so much more off-putting than it was). Yuuri could smell himself on Viktor, and it hurt like hell because it was an accident, an honest mistake even if he should have known better. Viktor’s own scent was stronger, too, as if he was intentionally soaking the room in it, whereas Yuuri was trying his best to hold back. 

By the time Yuuri made it to the rink in the morning, bursting in upon Viktor in a dizzying combination spin, he smelled like himself alone, but Viktor still smelled like Yuuri. It was torture not to grab him and breathe him in, breathe _them_ in, and clutch at Viktor’s skin until their scents intertwined irreversibly, as impossible as it was. But Yuuri managed.

Viktor seemed to have forgotten his annoyance. He was bright-eyed and open, hanging off of Yuuri more than ever before. An arm draped over his shoulders here, a too-close demonstration there… And still smelly, enough that it was almost cloying, flowers and wet earth blanketing the ice like a vintage perfume. Yuuri was glad the triplets were at preschool, so they wouldn’t have to witness this. 

Viktor acted like he was _courting_ Yuuri, and Yuuri was not going to put up with it. 

“Stop that!” he finally said, ducking out of Viktor’s reach. “I’m not an alpha, Viktor.”

Viktor froze, merely watching Yuuri skate away. “I didn’t think you were.” 

“Then stop treating me like one.” Yuuri turned sharply, wincing as he gouged the ice. 

Viktor frowned and headed for the boards. He leaned back against the barrier, and Yuuri pointedly did not stare at the arch of his spine, the careful cross of his legs, the way he tossed his long hair, for once free of its braid, over his shoulder. 

“Thirty suicides,” Viktor called out, his voice flat.

“What?!” Yuuri shouted, glaring at Viktor. 

“For being rude to your coach. Hurry up, we don’t have all day.” 

Yuuri growled, the feral noise growing from deep in his throat. It startled him, but he blamed Viktor’s teasing for getting his blood boiling like this, enough to growl like an animal. But Yuuri still obeyed, throwing himself into sprinting back and forth across the ice with all his frustration pushing him. 

The rink at Ice Castle was Olympic-sized, if not perfectly shaped, but when skating it sometimes seemed too small. Now, though, Yuuri felt every inch in the burn of his muscles as he stopped short at each of the faded hockey lines. He was tearing up his blades, and certain Viktor knew it too, but the sharpening Yuuri would have to put them through was probably just as much a punishment as the suicides. 

Viktor watched all of this from his casual lean; he even took a long drink of water from Yuuri’s bottle halfway through, just when Yuuri happened to glance over, and Yuuri would have shouted _sadist!_ at him if he’d had any breath left in his lungs to spare. 

When he was done, Yuuri glided towards Viktor still at top speed, not bothering to slow himself. Only when Viktor’s eyebrows rose, noticing his intention to crash, and he moved out of the way, did Yuuri brake, sending snow and chips of ice flying into the low wall and at Viktor’s ankles. 

“You’re still standing.”

Yuuri gave Viktor a flat look. 

Viktor leaned down and wiped the melting ice off his socks. “I expected that would drain even your stamina. Should I have said fifty?” 

“ _Fifty?!_ ” Yuuri slumped against the low wall. “Fifty suicides for being rude?”

“I lied,” Viktor said. “I don’t care if you’re rude to me. But you needed to let out your frustration, or you could have hurt yourself.” He stepped in close, looking down as a still-slumped Yuuri. “You could also stand to be a little kinder in your rejections.” 

“Rejections?” Yuuri squeaked out, but Viktor was already skating away. 

“We need to start working on your free program soon,” Viktor shouted from across the ice. “Do you have any ideas for your music?”

“I’ve never chosen my own music before,” Yuuri admitted. The change of topic soured his mood again, but if Viktor didn’t want to explain himself… well, what else is new.

“That’s going to change. You’ll choose your music, and we’ll choreograph it together. I want your input.” Viktor circled around again. “I think you’ll skate better if the program is more personal.”

Yuuri rubbed the back of his head; sweat had collected at his nape, making it sticky. “I don’t really have anything I want to skate to. I had a friend who wrote a song for me years ago, but…”

“Let’s hear it,” Viktor said. He hadn’t stopped moving. 

Yuuri sighed. He took Viktor’s ancient smart phone out of the music dock and synced up his wrist comm to it. After a few minutes of searching through old e-mails, he found the file, and he played it through the speakers. 

Viktor nodded along to the opening bars, swaying on his skates; it was a light, airy piano melody. Yuuri thought it was nice, but admittedly minimal. After a minute or so, Viktor frowned and stopped moving. 

“There’s not much to it,” Viktor said. “I would think an orchestra would have come in by now. You want to skate to this?”

Yuuri shrugged. He liked the tune, but it didn’t quite inspire him. It was rather bland, he thought; as a representation of his skating, it was anticlimactic, which was not unfitting. 

If he wanted to break Viktor’s records, this music wouldn’t suit his needs. 

“It’s a good start,” Viktor said. “Who was it that made this for you?”

“A friend from college. She was in a conservatory nearby, I think her mate was on the hockey team so she was at our skating club meetings pretty often.”

“Did she graduate from the conservatory?” Viktor asked. He looked dubious. 

“Well, she was a first-year at the time. I think she’s in her last year now.” 

Viktor contemplated this. “See if you can get in contact with her about revamping the music.” 

Yuuri nodded. “Yes, coach.”

Viktor turned to him. “Was that sarcastic?” 

Yuuri went rigid. _Oh_ , he realized; _Viktor really meant it_. “N-no! I’ll e-mail her tonight!” He’d have to go through Phichit, probably, to get in contact with her again. 

Viktor skated up close to him again. He didn’t try to tower over Yuuri, just leaned on the boards next to him. “Yuuri. You don’t have to take my advice. But I am here, and you did say you wanted me as your coach.”

Yuuri looked down at his feet. 

“I don’t intend to berate or punish you. I just want to know why I am here if you only listen to half of what I say.”

Through the corner of his eye, Yuuri glanced at Viktor. “You know, I grew up watching you. I’ve seen all your interviews.”

Viktor frowned at the apparent change in topic, but let Yuuri continue; it wasn’t like he could really fault Yuuri, seeing as he’d just done the same thing. 

“You would always talk about your coach, and how he’d yell at you for ignoring him. How sometimes you knew exactly what _not_ to do, because it came out of his mouth. And you won four consecutive World Championships, five Grand Prix, and two Olympic medals on that habit.” Yuuri shrugged and finally looked up. “I’m just following your example.”

Viktor’s jaw dropped; his mouth hung open. It was only then that Yuuri noticed Viktor hadn’t been pumping out his scent anymore, had let the A/C cycle it out, because it flared out of him again, the intoxicating mix of Viktor and Yuuri’s scents. Yuuri tried not to react, tried not to cower in fear at Viktor’s anger. What would Viktor do to him, really? 

But then he noticed the bloom of red across Viktor’s face; the wide, disbelieving eyes. Oh, of course; he’d gone and insulted Viktor to his face, and now he was _pissed_.

Yuuri turned away, skated off, tried to put as much speed and distance between them as he could. 

He completely forgot Viktor had mentioned _rejection_ at all.

**Author's Note:**

> please subscribe to the series for updates!


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